


she rings like a bell through the night, wouldn't you love to love her?

by sarahtlou



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse, American Horror Story: Coven
Genre: But we love her, F/F, No Magic AU, SO MUCH fleetwood mac, Slow Burn (kinda), but i worked really hard on it!!, extremely gay, madison is still a bitch, misty day is an emotional drunk fight me, musician!cordelia, simp!misty, this is bad I'm sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-18 15:55:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28869633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarahtlou/pseuds/sarahtlou
Summary: Misty Day attends a performance by a Fleetwood Mac tribute band with her friends. She doesn't expect them to be good; nor does she expect to fall head over heels for the lead singer, Delia Foxx...(Rated T for language, sexual references and alcohol, though rating may change later.)
Relationships: Misty Day/Cordelia Foxx | Cordelia Goode
Comments: 12
Kudos: 30





	she rings like a bell through the night, wouldn't you love to love her?

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone!
> 
> So this is my first AHS fic ever, and it's also the first time I've written creatively in almost four years, so please bear with me if it's not great. This story begins in the autumn of 2018 and is as I said in the tags a no magic AU. I'm pretty sure this hasn't been done before, but please let me know if it has!!
> 
> Chapter title is from Love in Store by Fleetwood Mac.
> 
> Hope you enjoy <3

“Will y'all please hurry up? We're gonna be _so_ late!” Misty hollered up the stairs.

Her housemates - Zoe, Queenie, Nan and Madison - were a lovely group of women, but alas, were no strangers to tardiness. The young Cajun would normally be far more blasé towards such lateness, but today was special. A Fleetwood Mac tribute band were playing a single night at the Maple Leaf Bar, one of Misty's favourite places to go. Though she would much prefer to see the _real_ band, their last New Orleans show was in 2013 and they hadn't made a move to come back since. The tribute act, Misty decided, would do just fine - providing they were good, of course…

Misty drummed one heel anxiously against the hardwood floor, twirling a lock of wild blonde hair around her fingers. “Guys! I mean it, or I'm going without y'all!” Finally, _finally_ , the four other girls came thundering down the stairs, a cacophony of coats, bags, shoes and complaints of Misty rushing them to leave before they were ready.

"Oh c'mon, I never normally rush y'all - but you know how much I'm looking forward to this! Plus you've had _hours_ to get ready," Misty whined, discreetly wiping away a smudge of lipstick at the corner of Zoe's mouth that she and the others had neglected to notice. Zoe mouthed a silent _thank you_ and grabbed Misty's hand, pulling her out of the door and motioning for the others to follow suit. Madison was the last to leave, melodramatically scraping her stilettos on the threshold and muttering about how she'd “much rather get wasted in a proper club, not some stupid hippie bar.”

Queenie rolled her eyes. “Oh, shut up, Hollywood. How about you try enjoying other things for once and stop throwing temper tantrums like a toddler every time things don't go your way?” Madison scoffed, and Misty bit her lip to stifle a giggle at the mental image of the younger woman throwing herself to the floor in a childish rage, like she'd seen her younger siblings do so many times.

A pang of sadness hit her square in the chest, then. Any thought of her family, however fleeting, elicited this reaction from her - they'd kicked her out at seventeen after her mother caught her with her hand down another girl's pants, shrieking of sin and eternal damnation to hell and how they didn't want a sinner under their roof a moment longer. Misty had always known she was somehow different to her peers, though these differences had manifested themselves in the most unsavoury way according to her religion. Now nearing her thirtieth birthday, Misty had slowly learned that these differences were not wrong at all – that is simply how it _is_ for some people and is nothing to be frowned upon. But _boy_ was it difficult to break free from that mindset.

Misty sighed inwardly and shook her head, a tactic she often used to rid her mind of bad thoughts. In her daze she’d failed to notice that Nan had begun to walk alongside her and had placed a hand on her arm to try and grasp her attention. “Hey, Earth to Misty. You okay?”

Misty nodded, forcing a wan smile. “Yes, Nan. Just lost in thought, I guess.” A brief pause. Nan side-eyed her in suspicion. The shorter woman was infamously intuitive to an extreme degree, so much so that Misty almost believed she could read minds. Before she could change the subject, Nan interjected. “You sure? You look like something’s bothering you.”

_She can definitely read my mind_ , Misty thought. _Okay, cough if you can hear my thoughts_. Thankfully, no such reaction came from the brunette, and Misty almost laughed in relief. “I’m sure! You lookin’ forward to the show, Nan?”

Nan grinned. “Sure. Fleetwood Mac aren’t really my thing, but I bet there’ll be some cute boys in the band!” Misty chuckled at just how vastly their reasons for attending the concert differed. No doubt the others were looking for similar reasons to Nan, as none of them were into the same music as her – some telling her this slightly more discreetly than others.

Speaking of discreet, Madison sidled up to the pair in front of her. “Hey, Swampy, hey, Fish-Sticks. What’s the goss? You seriously think there’ll be some cute boys in a band that plays such dire music? I mean, it’s not even _original_. Just some dumb 70s shit for loser boomers and twenty-something lesbians,” she commented pointedly. Misty thought that if she rolled her eyes any harder, they’d fall out the back of her skull and tumble down the street away from the diva. But before she could open her mouth to form a withering reply, Zoe interjected.

“Hey, Madison! What did we talk about?”

Madison pouted, and the imagined scenario Misty had conjured up earlier teetered on her mental periphery again. She swallowed a laugh before piping up, “don’t worry, Zoe. I’ve heard what Madi calls ‘music’ and I’m not worried about my taste in it at all.” Madison feigned offence, gasping dramatically and clutching at her chest before linking arms with Zoe and dragging her away to walk with Queenie. Misty looked on fondly, knowing Madison didn’t really mean to upset anyone with her catty comments. It was just her way of showing affection, however strange it may be.

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The gang of five slipped inside the doors of Maple Leaf Bar in the nick of time – the tribute band were just making their way onstage. A blonde woman of around forty stepped up to the mic to announce their arrival.

“Good evening everybody! My name is Coco and I’ll be introducing tonight’s musical act – The Seven Wonders! Can we get a whoop-whoop?”

The crowd responded accordingly, Misty and her friends included, barring Madison.

Coco chuckled and continued her introduction. “Hell yeah, I’m loving the atmosphere in here tonight! And now to introduce the band members!” She removed the microphone from its stand and stepped to the side of the stage as the band members took their positions.

“Our bass guitarist is the lovely Luke Ramsey!” Luke gave an awkward wave to the crowd, almost seeming overwhelmed by the bright lights and noise. The crowd cheered, Nan and Madison especially loudly. “And on guitars, we have the amazing Kyle Spencer” – more cheering, the elevated volume from Zoe this time – “and Marie Laveau!” The alcohol-fuelled racket from the crowd was reaching an astronomical level, and Misty wondered how the band were able to cope with it.

“On keyboard we have Spalding, and our drummer is Hank Foxx!” Coco half-yelled, gesturing wildly to each bandmate as she named them. Spalding barely acknowledged Coco’s introduction, a stark contrast to Hank who played it up perhaps a little too much – Misty instantly disliked him. “And finally, our vocalists – our backing vocalist is the stunning Mallory Fisher!” A girl no older than twenty-five wandered shyly onstage, giving the audience a curt nod.

“Last but certainly by no means least, we have our lead singer… everybody give it up for the endlessly talented, beautiful, astounding Delia Foxx!”

From the wings of the stage emerged what Misty was sure could only be a fairy, an angel, or some other kind of mythical being, for she was sure there was no way a human could be so breathtakingly ethereal. Her mouth went dry. Delia Foxx simply radiated confidence and stage presence, and Misty felt like she could die happy right then and there just by _looking_ at the woman in front of her.

Delia graciously accepted the microphone offered by Coco. “Hi everybody! Wow, what fantastic energy we have in this room tonight. I can’t wait to begin!” Her voice rang clear as a bell across the bar, but Misty could just about catch a raspy undertone to it that made her weak at the knee. She thought she’d known love when she first became obsessed with Fleetwood Mac and Stevie Nicks in particular, but that love was rooted in admiration rather than… whatever _this_ was.

Misty was so preoccupied by her new obsession that she missed the intro to the first song – _The Chain_. She began to sing along partway through the first verse, her eyes never leaving Delia. Swaying in time with the music, she felt a deep blush creep up her chest and onto her face. _Oh, fuck_. The woman was truly smitten. Misty was grateful for the red-hued lights dangling from the ceiling, because she was sure that by now her friends would’ve started mocking her. The alcohol she’d begun to consume wasn’t helping either.

The band were actually pretty good. Even Madison almost started dancing at one point, midway through a bone-chillingly good rendition of _Dreams_. Delia strutted about the stage the entire time, twirling her glittering black shawl Stevie-style copiously. The tassels of the shawl slithered around her forearms like snakes, hypnotised by the woman’s haunting voice. Misty knew exactly how they felt.

Before long, the band’s set was drawing to a close. Delia selected _Songbird_ as the final song by audience vote, and Misty immediately began to panic – how much more could one girl’s heart take in one evening? The sombre piano melody resonated throughout the room, and Delia started to sing.

“ _For you, there'll be no more crying_

_For you, the sun will be shining_

_And I feel that when I'm with you_

_It's alright, I know it's right_.”

Misty blanched. Delia was looking directly at her. Or had she imagined it?

Nope. As if Delia had noticed Misty noticing her staring, she faltered a little on the next line and blushed. She smiled at Misty during a break between verses and Misty felt her heart ascend to heaven, singing among choruses of angels.

Then the final song was over, and Misty felt herself visibly deflate. Queenie eyed her up. “You good?”

Misty nodded, too overcome with emotion to speak. “Could we – “ she cleared her throat, embarrassed by the hoarseness of her voice – “could we maybe hang around for a bit after they’ve packed up and meet the band?”

Queenie’s eyes lit up, afire with realisation at what was going on in the blonde girl’s head. “Sure – I saw you making gooey eyes at that singer. Hate to break it to you, babe, but I’m pretty sure she’s married to the drummer.” _Ah, shit_. How had she not realised? It wasn’t the most common surname, Foxx. Crushed, Misty turned to rush to the bathroom and bawl her eyes out.

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The clean-up job wasn’t the best, but all Misty had was toilet paper and her own tears to mop up the mess of makeup smeared across her features. There was no way she’d be leaving the bathroom stall until she was mildly presentable, so she decided to just suck it up. _I can’t believe this_ , Misty thought to herself – _I’m crying over someone who I may never see again_. Using her familiar trick of shaking the bad thoughts out, she unlocked the door and ran smack into Delia Foxx herself.

Mortified, a torrent of apologies streamed from Misty’s lips. “Oh my god, I am so sorry! How clumsy of me, so sorry Mrs Foxx! Are you okay? Are you h-“

Delia cut her off with a finger pressed gently to her lips, and Misty thought she might pass out. “Hush now, I’m fine! No need to get yourself in a state. Now, you seem to know my name but I don’t think I caught yours?” Delia smiled at her encouragingly.

“Uh… well, I’m Misty, Misty Day. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs Foxx!”

Delia laughed, a high, twinkling sound. “What a beautiful name for a beautiful girl! And please, just call me Delia.”

_Oh, we’re on a first-name basis now? And did she just call me beautiful?_ Misty could’ve dropped dead on the spot. Before she had time to react, Delia had reached into her purse, pulling out a small notepad and a diamond-encrusted pen. She scribbled something down and slipped it into Misty’s hand so subtly she could’ve been a magician, and was out the door with a waft of flowery perfume and a whisper of “call me.”

_Holy hell_ , Misty thought. _I am in some deep shit._

**Author's Note:**

> What do we think so far, folks? Should I continue?
> 
> Also, fun fact: the Maple Leaf Bar is a real place, I wonder if anyone reading this has been there?
> 
> You can find me on Twitter at @sapphiclanas or Tumblr at @silksheetsbluedawn. Have a great day and thanks for reading!! <3


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